


426 PHX to SFO

by Lobo_Loca



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, First Meetings, Humor, Late Night Flights, M/M, Sleepy Sam, Unbeta'd, gratuitous use of nicknames
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 11:18:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3379571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lobo_Loca/pseuds/Lobo_Loca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam Winchester arrives at Phoenix exhausted, but braves an hour layover, and then a 30 minute delay, with a cup of coffee. Halfway through his flight to San Francisco, Sam falls asleep. He wakes up at San Francisco International Airport to find the cute guy in the window seat trying to crawl over his lap to freedom. Which, really, is not the oddest thing to happen to him on a post-Christmas flight back to California.</p><p>Gabriel Milton has just opened a candy store in Phoenix—his sixth outside of California—and is more than ready to go home. He has a midnight flight, which is no one’s idea of a fun time, but at least he has some hot as burning eye candy in the aisle seat. Then Mr. Hot Sasquatch falls asleep an hour into the flight, and is adamant about staying asleep no matter how many times Gabriel shakes him. So, really, what’s a poor guy to do but put his hands all over the sexy giant if it means getting home to his California king that much quicker? And maybe not alone since Mr. Sasquatch woke up just as Gabriel’s going over his lap.</p>
            </blockquote>





	426 PHX to SFO

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic in the Supernatural fandom, so please be kind and leave some feedback.

On the verge of nodding off, Sam nursed a cup of overpriced airport coffee as he sat by his gate.

After about five years of commuting between San Francisco and Lawrence for major holidays, Sam had gotten used to staying awake for late layovers and later flights, but this year’s hour layover, plus a 30 minute delay, might just be his undoing. Then again, he usually arrived in Phoenix before 11 o’clock at night. It also probably didn’t help that the doorbell at Dean’s place had gone off at about 3:30 in the morning after one hell of a post-Thanksgiving bender at the Roadhouse. And by bender he meant a two day drinking marathon because Dean was pouting over not spending Thanksgiving or any of his days off with Cas.

Sam liked Cas, he really did, but he still wished Cas would’ve mentioned his plan to surprise Dean by taking an earlier flight back from his conference in Syracuse. Sam would’ve been more than willing to shell out for a decent motel room if it meant he didn’t have to hear just how happy Dean was to have back his boyfriend—fiancé actually, since about two o’clock that afternoon when Cas found the ring box hidden inside the cookie jar and, God, Sam had been sure that the house had been on fire or someone had delete the latest episode of Dr. Sexy MD from the TiVo with the way Dean had been screeching…. What had he been thinking about again?

He stared at the murky depths of his paper cup, trying to remember. Sam must’ve zoned out at some point as he jerked to attention when his flight’s boarding call echoed through the nearly empty terminal. He quickly downed the rest of his coffee and tossed the cup in the trash, hauling his duffle over one shoulder and his backpack over the other. He swayed for a moment under the weight, but strode determinedly towards the boarding kiosk, smartphone with his virtual boarding pass in hand.

It felt like an eternity before Sam actually boarded, dumping his duffle on the a-la-cart and climbing into the plane from the tarmac. Hunched over, he trudged down the narrow aisle to his 15B seat, nearly at the back of the plane. Maybe if he was lucky they’d be able to unload from the rear door in San Francisco, he’d splurge on a taxi, and he’d be on the doorstep to his apartment in no time flat. 15A was already occupied by a shorter brunet man in a rumpled suit sans tie with a black messenger bag tucked under the seat in front of him. Sam stowed his backpack in the overhead compartment and folded himself into the seat, murmuring a brief apology to the passenger in front of him as his legs jostled the seat, knees nearly up to his ears even with the extra foot room.

Sam hated flying, especially flying coach, but there really wasn’t a faster or more cost effective way to travel to and from Lawrence, short of moving back to Kansas. Which would make his mother happy beyond belief, but Sam was set to make junior partner at his law firm in two years, senior partner five to ten years after that. Also, San Francisco tended to be a little bit more forgiving of Sam’s bisexuality than Lawrence, even if no one dared say a word about the local firefighting hero Dean Winchester and his University of Kansas literary professor love muffin Castiel Milton.

Sam paused, placing his hand over his eyes as he repeated that last bit in his mind. He’d called Cas Dean’s love muffin. He had no words for how wrong that was, nor how strong the urge to wash his brain out with soap and maybe bleach.

Dear God, he needed sleep or he was going to start acting like a lunatic.

Or he could just mainline coffee. That was always a viable solution.

His eyes drooped as the flight attendants went through the safety presentation, but he forced them back open through sheer force of will.

Normally on a two hour flight, Sam would either read or pull out one of his sudoku books, but he didn’t have enough energy to concentrate on anything other than staying awake. And he would stay awake, having learned his lesson during the catastrophe that was the Post-Christmas Flight of 2011, which had led to two months of weekly therapy and a restraining order which had since been rescinded under the strict terms that Miss Rosen would not actively seek Sam out and that she would keep her hands and person to herself.

Never again, Sam had vowed.

)

Gabriel didn’t usually take late flights, if he flew at all, but if he spent another hour in Phoenix hounded by his marketing director and or his sales consultant, he was going to do something inadvisable. Like go out in the desert and find an assortment of rattlesnakes, scorpions, and arachnids to leave in their hotel rooms. He hadn’t even wanted to expand his market presence by opening up a store in Arizona. He’d been perfectly happy as a California only candy store franchise. But Michael and Balthazar had insisted, and really, it wasn’t like Gabriel had actually been doing anything with the cash he’d had sitting around.

So yeah, opening a Sweetcheeks location in Phoenix had probably been a good business decision, even if Michael and Balthazar were bitchy harpies in the meanwhile. Gabriel really should just fire them and hire people who didn’t want to make him commit premeditated homicide on a daily basis, but they were his brothers and his mother would not be happy if he kicked them to the curb.

 The midnight flight back to San Francisco was the only thing preserving the last scraps of Gabriel’s sanity at this point.

He caught sight of the giant making his way down the aisle and, _hello_ , _handsome._ There was a little much plaid action going on for Gabriel’s taste, but damn, that was a gorgeous face and he’d bet his last dollar there was some rocking abs hidden under that flannel. Then Gabriel realized that Hottie McHotson was still looking for his seat, and he knew, even before Hot Like Burning stopped in between rows 14 and 15 to pop open the overhead compartment, that God had sent this divinely hot—and probably straight as a ruler—creature down to Earth to sit right next Gabriel, far too close to ogle discreetly, to remind Gabriel that for all his money and success, he couldn’t get or keep a date to save his life.

The world was a cruel, cruel place, and the look on Sasquatch’s face said he agreed as he squished himself into the seat. Gabriel winced in sympathy. He wasn’t anywhere near as tall as his seat neighbor, but airplanes weren’t exactly generous with leg room in coach. Then Gabriel noticed how Gigantor sagged forward, hand over his eyes and head drooping before it sprung up again like a whack-a-mole as he jerked himself awake. Sasquatch looked like he’d pulled a couple of consecutive all-nighters and was subsisting off caffeine fumes.

Definitely wasn’t in the mood for friendly conversation or innuendo then.

Gabriel watched Gigantor out of the corner of his eye throughout the safety presentation, biting his lip to keep from snickering at the obvious effort Sasquatch was putting into keep himself awake. His eyes were open so wide he looked like some kind of demented wild animal. Maybe a crazed moose or something.

Gabriel could sympathize though—get him into a confectionary groove and he’d cook for three days without pause until someone took his apron away or he tried to make some utterly horrible concoction that scarred his taste buds. In the meanwhile, he could get a little nutty. A lot, if you asked Balthazar.

He stared out the window and just past the wing as the plane took off, the lights of Phoenix growing smaller and smaller. He enjoyed watching the scenery whenever he flew, though it was too dark now to make out much more than vague outlines of major roads, mountains, and the lights from cities and towns.

About half an hour into the flight, they reached cruising altitude and the flight attendants started down the aisle handing out complimentary drinks and little snack packets. Gabriel got water since sugar or caffeine this late at night would’ve had him wired and wide awake for hours and he was looking forward to crashing the minute he got through the door of his apartment.

Sasquatch, however, got coffee which he downed immediately.

Gabriel shared a surprised look with the flight attendant, but silently settled back into staring out the window. If his neighbor wanted to OD on caffeine, more power to him. It certainly wasn’t any of Gabriel’s business.

An hour into the flight, Gabriel glanced away from the window to check on his seatmate—because clearly, Sasquatch wasn’t in his right mind at the moment—and was less than surprised to find Gigantor snoozing away in his seat, head propped up by his elbow on the armrest and one knee half splayed into the aisle. He looked peaceful asleep. Much more than he had awake at any rate.

It wasn’t until the plane hit a rough patch of turbulence during descent and Sasquatch didn’t even twitch that Gabriel realized he was effectively trapped in his seat with Sasquatch snoozing away merrily. As the plane drew closer to the runway, Gabriel gently shook Gigantor’s shoulder, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible while still waking him up. Sasquatch didn’t even seem to feel it so Gabriel shook a little harder as the landing gear touched down, jostling the plane.

Since shaking wasn’t working, Gabriel changed tactics and starting jabbing at Sasquatch’s shoulder. Still nothing so Gabriel tried a softer jab to Gigantor’s side. The big lug stirred for a moment, shifting away from Gabriel, but he didn’t wake up. The seatbelt light clicked off overhead as the cabin lights came on, and Sasquatch grumbled a little, tucking his face into the crook of his elbow, but he was still down for the count.

A couple of passengers snickered at Gabriel’s predicament and he very calmly flipped them off as he weighed his options.

Option A: wait for Gigantor to wake up and move on his own. Likelihood: Slim to none.

Option B: unfasten Sasquatch’s seatbelt, push him into the aisle, and make an escape. Likelihood: Somewhat plausible, if Gabriel had the energy to even try moving Big Foot. Which, for the record, he did not.

Option C: crawl across Gigantor to freedom. Likelihood: Nearly a foregone conclusion. Because, really, why the hell not? And it certainly didn’t seem like Sasquatch would be awake for it so only Gabriel would know how truly awkward things had gotten on Flight 426 Phoenix to San Francisco.

Gabriel retrieved his messenger bag from under the seat and tucked it under one arm as he mentally prepared himself for his potentially most embarrassing venture to date while sober. After a deep breath and a quick glance to make sure no one was watching, Gabriel placed one knee on Sasquatch’s thigh, reaching out to balance himself with his free hand on the other thigh. Gabriel had just gotten his other knee onto Gigantor’s thigh when he felt the body beneath him stir and glanced up, finding him face to face with a tired and confused but no-longer sleeping giant.

Staring Sasquatch dead in the eye, Gabriel smirked and said, “I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m really not.”

Sasquatch blinked down at him with sleepy, confused puppy eyes. “Wha?”

 _Someone that big should not be that cute,_ Gabriel thought as he raised an eyebrow at Gigantor, and said slowly, “I’m crawling across your lap to freedom. I’d apologize for invading your personal space since most people are very touchy about personal space being invaded, but really, you brought it on yourself for falling asleep in the aisle seat, Sasquatch. Also, you my good sir, are hot like burning, and who am I to resist a quick grope in my quest for freedom?”

Sleepy giant puppy stared down at Gabriel, eyebrows furrowed, as he murmured, “’M I dreamin’? ‘Cause last time a cute guy hit on me I’s dreamin’.”

Gabriel didn’t believe that for a moment, and he was not in any way cute, but it was pretty obvious that while Gigantor’s lights were on, there wasn’t actually anyone home. “How long has it been since you slept, kiddo?”

“’Bout,” Sasquatch paused to yawn, “’bout 22 hours ‘r so. ‘N’ ‘m not a kid. ‘M 31.” He lifted a hand and brushed a strand of hair out of Gabriel’s face. “Your eyes’re pretty.”

“Why, thank you for noticing, Sasquatch.”

He frowned, curling on arm around Gabriel and dragging him closer. “Name’s not Sa’quatch. Name’s Sam.”

“Well,” Gabriel said after a moment, a bit confused by this turn of events but not necessarily _displeased_ , “it’s nice to meet you, Sam. I’m Gabriel.”

He waited a few minutes to see if Sam was going to let go or wake up some more or do something fun, waving off the pair of concerned flight attendants easily. It was clear, however, that Sam was not about to give up cuddling his new teddy bear, nor was he going to join the land of living just yet.

“Alright, Sammy,” Gabriel said, trying to wriggle his way out of Sam’s arms, “I think it’s time to debark from the plane now.”

Sam pouted and grumbled quietly, but quickly released Gabriel, who managed not to spill out head first into the aisle now that he was no long being kept in place by a cuddly giant. Gabriel righted himself, dusted off his suit jacket, and patted down his messenger to check that his laptop hadn’t suffered any damage during his bid for freedom. He slung the messenger bag across his chest then popped open the overhead compartment under Sam’s sleepy gaze.

Gabriel grabbed the backpack stuffed in there, and then shook it in front of Sam’s face, saying, “You gonna get your backpack, Sam?”

Sam frowned at reached out for the backpack, but Gabriel back down the aisle, just out of reach. It took him a moment, but Sam fumbled open his seatbelt and stumbled to his feet, swaying a little as he tried to follow Gabriel. Sam almost caught up to Gabriel on the stairs down to the tarmac, seeing as Gabriel couldn’t exactly walk backwards down the stairs without the risk of breaking something. They passed the a-la-cart and Gabriel grabbed his small carryon and what he assumed to be Sam’s duffle. He slung the duffle over the shoulder opposite his messenger bag as he walked, grunting softly when he realized how heavy it was.

“Jesus, Sam, whatcha got in here? An anvil?”

Sam stopped walking for a moment, head cocked to the side in confusion before he caught sight of the duffle. “M’ brother got me books for Christmas.”

“Must’ve bought out the whole damn bookstore,” Gabriel muttered under his breath as they started up the stairs towards the terminal. Once they made it passed the gates and security—garnering odd looks on the way from the few people around the San Francisco International Airport at quarter to two in the morning—Gabriel handed Sam his backpack and carefully unloaded the duffle onto his shoulder. Sam swayed for a moment under the weight of his luggage, but stayed on his feet.

Gabriel stared at Sam for several moments, before he dug out a business card, scrawling his cell phone number and a short note on the back. He stuffed it into the front pocket of Sam’s plaid shirt, patting the pocket absently, and glanced up at Sam, who stared back vacantly.

Gabriel sighed, rubbing at his brow. “Let’s see if we can’t find you a cab home, Sam.”

)

Sam woke up in his bed and laid there for a moment, staring at the ceiling as he tried to remember how exactly he'd gotten there. He remembered boarding his flight from Kansas City to Phoenix, the layover and delay in Phoenix, and boarding his flight to San Francisco in Phoenix, but after that, things became worryingly fuzzy. He didn’t remember taking a cab home, but he must’ve at some point.

Staggering out of bed, Sam pulled at his shirt and wrinkled his nose realizing it was the same one he’d been wearing yesterday when he left Dean’s place. He shrugged out of his flannel, but paused when felt something in his front pocket. He reached in and drew out a business card. On the front, Gabriel Milton Sweetcheeks Owner & Founder was printed in neat font next to a pair of crossed lollipops. Upon closer inspection the candy did seem to form the shape of rather generous buttocks.

There was a phone number scrawled on the back in unfamiliar handwriting, along with a short note: _It wasn’t a dream, Sasquatch._

Which was pretty ominous since Sam didn’t remember anything even vaguely dreamlike, except for a few snatches of a really cute guy who’d hit on him. As sleep-deprived as Sam was last night, there was no way that could’ve ended well. That didn’t exactly explain why he’d managed to get a phone number though.

He set the business card on his nightstand next to his wallet, and stripped off his sweaty undershirt, tossing it in the direction of his hamper. Then he stripped off his pants and underwear, wincing a little as they stuck to his skin. He balled up the clothes and shot for his hamper, grinning to himself when the clothes made it in.

Yawning and scratching his head, Sam wandered into his en suite for a long overdue shower.

A little of the flight trickled back as he basked under the spray of hot water, vague memories of debarking and shambling his way to the terminal, but nothing about the cute guy—whom he tentatively assumed was Gabriel.

Gabriel was definitely cheeky, if the business card was anything to go by, and cute guy had been quite sassy from what Sam could remember.

Now that Sam was thinking of it, Gabriel’s face had been awful close in Sam’s flickers of memories. He mused on the thought as he wrapped a towel around his waist and ventured out to the kitchen to grab some coffee.

There was an unfamiliar suit jacket thrown over the back of the couch. Sam frowned at it and moved closer to pick it up, freezing when he caught a glimpse of brown hair on the arm rest. Gabriel was curled up on the cushions, sleeves rolled up to his elbow and shoes left neatly off to the side with a messenger bag and a small carryon leaned against the end of the couch.

It was pretty obvious they hadn’t had sex—Sam definitely would not have woken up alone or with his clothes on if that had been the case—but that was really the only reason that came to mind as to why Gabriel would be in his apartment. Maybe Gabriel had helped Sam home last night?

He debated for a moment whether to wake Gabriel up, but, after glancing at the clock on the far wall and realizing he was supposed to leave for work in half an hour, Sam decided that Gabriel could wait until after he got some coffee and put some pants on.

Leaning against his kitchen counter, Sam slowly drank his coffee, debating how he wanted to wake up Gabriel. He decided early on that pouring water over Gabriel’s head was a little mean when Gabriel seemed like a decent enough guy (so far). The current contenders were setting off the alarm on Sam’s phone right next to Gabriel’s ear, shaking Gabriel awake, or resting a mug of coffee, or a bag of ice, on his face.

Decisions, decisions.

Sam rinsed out his mug and set it on the counter before heading to his bedroom. He donned his usual suit and tie, and took a moment to gather the papers stacked on his desk, tucking them into his briefcase. Sam dropped his briefcase by the front door before going back to the kitchen and pouring a mug about two-thirds full of piping hot coffee. Standing behind the couch and with a firm grasp on the handle, Sam very gently set the mug on Gabriel’s cheek and watched his face for any signs of waking. Once Gabriel started shifting around some, Sam removed the coffee mug from his face, walking around to the other side of the couch, and held the steaming mug under Gabriel’s face.

Gabriel’s nose twitched and he slowly blinked his eyes open. He stared at Sam uncomprehendingly for a few heartbeats before he bolted upright, glancing around wildly. Gabriel calmed down a little as he took in his surrounding and turned back to Sam, making grabby hands at the mug. “Gimme.”

Sam rolled his eyes, but handed over the coffee. “Good morning to you too, Gabriel.”

Gabriel froze mid-sip, hesitantly swallowed, and rested his cup between his legs. “So how much of last night do you remember, Sam?”

“Just about none of it after boarding the plane in Phoenix,” Sam replied, watching Gabriel’s reaction closely. “I’m assuming you’re Gabriel because I found a business card in my pocket and I vaguely remember sitting next to you on the plane. I’m very curious about the ‘It wasn’t a dream’ note by the way.”

Gabriel sipped at his coffee. “I just want to start off by saying absolutely none of this is my fault. You, Sasquatch, need to get more sleep before attempting red eye flights.”

Sam tried not to let that worry him. Mainly because he’d never been grouchy while tired so much as without most of his inhibitions and incredibly friendly.

“For the first half of the flight, you were pretty much fine. A little maniac, but still not completely out of your mind. Then you fell asleep and wouldn’t wake up when we landed,” Gabriel said, pausing as he sipped at the coffee. “And, well, I’m not the most patient sort. Really, you brought this on yourself for taking the aisle seat, even if it does have more room for your freakishly long legs. So I decided the best way to get out of the row was to climb over you.”

Sam raised an eyebrow and asked, “Really? You just climbed right over me?”

“Well, I tried to but _someone_ ,” Gabriel looked accusingly at Sam, “decided to wake up in the middle of my daring escape.”

“I think I remember this. You said something about apologizing if you’d actually been sorry.” Sam frowned and muttered, “I think I remember you hitting on me.”

Gabriel shrugged. “Well, yeah. If you haven’t noticed, you’re ridiculously hot and I was already right there in your lap so it wasn’t like I had much dignity left anyway.”

“Believe it or not, most guys assume I’m straight, so I don’t get hit on that often by guys.”

“It’s probably the flannel,” Gabriel replied, eyes roving over Sam’s suit. “You look less like the stereotypical ultra-masculine backwoods hick in the suit.”

Sam snorted. “You flatter me.”

“Hey, it’s a perfectly valid assumption,” Gabriel argued. “I wasn’t sure if you were interested in guys until you started cooing over how pretty my eyes were.”

“I did not.”

“You definitely did, Sasquatch. You just don’t remember it.”

“For some reason,” Sam drawled dryly, “I don’t believe you.”

Gabriel shot back, “Believe whatever you want, Sammich, but you definitely cooed over my gorgeous eyes and used me as your own personal teddy bear before I convinced you to let me go.”

Sam thought he might vaguely remember something to that extent, but deadpanned, “Lies. It’s all lies.”

Gabriel grabbed one of the pillows off the couch and threw it at Sam's head. “You know what, enough commentary from the peanut gallery. I’m going to finish without any more interruptions or I won’t finish at all,” he threated, waving his coffee mug at Sam.

Sam rolled his eyes but gestured for Gabriel to continue.

“Well, once I managed to escape your handsy clutches, I lured you off the plane by waving your backpack under your nose like some kind of chew toy. Managed to get all the way to the terminal without incident, but even after I let you have the backpack and the duffle—and I still think your brother bought out an entire bookstore to make it that heavy—and even though you had all your luggage, you wouldn’t quit following me! So I magnanimously shared a cab with you—and it took ten minutes of prodding to get your address out of you, Sasquatch. Be a little more trusting when someone’s trying to help you out, alright? Then when we got here, you didn’t want to get out of the cab without me. Seeing as you’re about half a foot taller than I am, I couldn’t exactly force you out so I paid the cabbie—half of which came from you, and I may or may not’ve stolen a quick grope when I returned your wallet to your back pocket, but damn, Sammy, you’ve got a sweet ass.”

Sam buried his head in his hands, mostly mortified and only blushing a little, but also somewhat fondly exasperated at how brash Gabriel was. It kinda reminded him of Dean.

“We haven’t even gotten to the best part yet, Sam!” Gabriel exclaimed with a wide grin. “You see, I had to shepherd you the entire way to your apartment, and then you grabbed onto my sleeve and pouted—the one with the big watery puppy dog eyes and jutting lower lip. Don’t you dare try to tell me you have no idea what I’m talking about. And you just wouldn’t let me leave. I finally gave in and promised to stay which led you to try and drag me with you to your bedroom, but as much as I shamelessly took advantage of your sleep-deprived state before, I drew the line there. And, boy, did that make you sad. You looked like you were on the edge of tears, Sammy, but I held firm and, eventually, you gave up and wandered off to bed alone. Now here we are drinking coffee, and having the most absurd morning-after conversation ever.”

Sam laughed. “Can’t say I disagree.” He glanced at the clock and the smile fell from his face. “And I hate to kick you out, but I’ve gotta leave for work in ten minutes and, no offence, but I barely know you and I just—”

“Don’t feel comfortable leaving me alone in your apartment,” Gabriel finished knowingly as he stood. “I can respect that. I’ll just show myself out then.” He shifted and held out the mug in his hand for Sam to take. “It was interesting to meet you, Sam.”

Sam hesitantly took the mug and nodded, replying, “Yeah, it was great to meet you, Gabriel.”

Gabriel grinned, reaching down to slip on his shoes. He slung his messenger bag over his shoulder, folded his suit jacket over his arm, grabbed the handle of his carry on, and headed for the door.

“Are you free Friday?” Sam blurted out as Gabriel reached for the doorknob.

Gabriel’s head whipped around to stare at him and Sam hurriedly continued, “I just—you seem like a really nice funny guy and I’d like to take you to dinner and have an actual conversation with you that doesn’t have anything to do with me being incredibly sleep-deprived. On Friday, specifically, if you’re free.” Absently, Sam realized he was rambling but couldn’t seem to make himself stop. “Or if you’re busy or not interested, we don’t have to; it was just a suggestion—”

“I’ve been wanting to do this for a while now,” Gabriel announced, grabbing Sam by the back of the neck and mashing their mouths together to shut Sam up. Sam melted into the kiss and was just about to start recuperating when Gabriel swiped a quick bit of tongue around Sam’s mouth and pulled back with a smirk.

“So Friday’s great. Pick you up sevenish?”

“Yeah,” Sam replied dazedly, licking his lips, “sevenish is good.”

Gabriel laughed and stole a quick peck, sadly without tongue, before heading for the door again. He winked over his shoulder at Sam and closed the door behind him.

Sam stared at the door blankly, feeling distinctly in over his head.

He kind of liked the feeling.


End file.
